The cost of freedom has always been great.
Before I left I thought, "Hey, I'll be a good mom and wife tonight and actually make dinner!" (this idea is becoming more and more novel around here. Directly proportional to my expanding hips.) =( So in a cheap attempt to make sure everyone ate enough to prevent the inevitable whining, "I'M HUNGRY! I didn't get much to eat!" I decided to make tons of little pancakes and we would have a pancake eating contest.
The kids gathered around the table in anticipation (also a novelty at the dinner table) and I put that stack in the center of the table. They dished up and all three of the boys decided to opt out of syrup. I asked, "Are you sure you don't want syrup?!""It will slow us down Mom!"
The contest started and the oldest folds his pancake up and shoves it in whole. Obviously been watching "Hurl" with Daddy again.
"NO BOYS!! We aren't RACING! Just keep track of how many you eat...you can take all night if you want!"
Little disclaimer...I had eaten very wisely all day and hadn't snacked...so I was really hungry. So Smiley was done at 3 and happy because he is 3. Everything is way cooler if you are that age. Bear was holding his hands over his mouth at 6 and just staring. We were telling him, "Stop eating!! You're going to puke!" He took our advice, sat back for a few, and then finished another half pancake so that he would beat Daddy. Spider-Man got to seven and said he was going to barf. I won....sniff sniff. In my defense, these were really small pancakes. So I would just like to thank my husband for not showing up to the competition and letting his wife waste him like that. Really good for the ego. Thanks Honey.
After we were done, the boys decide to wrestle. Yep, I'll bet you see the problem with this idea too. So I suggested that they play some Dead Dog instead.
"What's that mommy?"
"When you have eaten too much, you just lay around like dead dogs."
They thought this was an AWESOME game. The funny little guys decided that it is more accurate if you lay on your backs with your legs in the air. This is apparently the correct form for dead animals. And ever the mean big brothers, the two oldest were telling Smiley that he looked like a dead fish instead of a dead dog...which he was sad about. They worked it out though in boy-fashion and had fun. I went upstairs smiling to myself for my mommy awesomeness.
Then my friend and I made a break for it! We headed to the mall.
I have never remembered to do this, but apparently some people get new clothes for Christmas. We went into the Children's Place and they had sweaters 3 for $20!! I wouldn't have normally bought my boys sweaters, but they had been little snots for the most part of the day, so I got them. They think they are DYING if they have to wear a long-sleeve white shirt for church. I asked the cashier if that makes me a mean mom if I am buying them sweaters just to tick them off.
Poor girl probably peed a little laughing at that. =) (Good thing she thought I was kidding. Totally wasn't though.)We went to Victoria's Secret to get a new bra. They are having an AWESOME sale on bras so we decided we would like to invite the girls back up for a visit. So the cute, skinny, blonde, stylish girl (hate her) asked if I know my size. Nope. We walked back to the dressing room area to measure. Now for any boys reading this, Ferris's head almost exploded when trying to think of what this might involve. It is a simple procedure involving a tape measure and no weirdness at all. This is even coming from a girl who is not so into touching anyone. Totally wouldn't have been weird...oh, except for the young guy just standing there waiting for his little girl friend to try on some bras. (I judge. I guess they could have been married...those little newly weds are looking younger and younger.) Anyway, I was kind of looking at him like, "So, you just going to hang out here for this?" Yep.
She finishes measuring and informs me of the damage. The number was a little higher then I am used to. Being the joker that I am, I tried to laugh it off and save my ego. "Does that mean I have like a chubby rib cage?"
"Um, yep. Yah."
Not even kidding. That was her response. Said in a way that made me want to pop her little head right off. Almost as if she knew that she had touched a soft spot, she then told me how they really don't have much selection in that size. =| Thanks. You're a sweet little puke.
Girl-trying-bras-on-with-boyfriend-there asked my opinion on which one. I recommended the red one with the scalloped edges...it's a bit more sassy. Also, let your mom know that you are bra shopping with A BOY!!!! The boy liked the other one. What the heck to boys know though...we vetoed him.
(For those of you still in shock that I would blog about my pathetic bra size, you obviously don't watch the People's Court and you probably missed the one where I told the judge that I hid an entire tape recorder in my bra. That is a whole different blog post.)
Off to Target! We wandered aimlessly for a long time, collecting random crap. Hopefully some of it will prove useful in the next few weeks. We headed home and watched The Office with hubbies....what Thursday night would be complete without that?!
Remember that "cost of freedom" comment? That all happens when the lights turn off and all is quiet.
Little Small Fry....
Pause! Time Out!
For the record, this whole "nickname" thing is retarded. I feel like the biggest idiot every time I write something about "Spider-Man" or "Bear"! Just sounds dumb. So if it is painful for you to read, remember that I feel your pain. It's always cooler when someone else is doing it...then I do it and it looks just plain dumb. Sorry.
Unpause!
Little Small-fry has always been such a great sleeper. This little 4.0 version of the Smith baby may be the perfected model! I put him to bed the other night at 8:30 PM. He got up at 6:30, drank a bottle and sweetly went back to sleep. I finally went in and poked him at 10:30 AM to see if he was alright. This is not a-typical. He has always been a great sleeper. Even at The Children's Place that night I say a cute little onesie that said "Silent Night...yah right" I smiled to myself thinking how cute and clever it was and how I would get it if it were true at all. (another inward smile to myself and a pleasant sigh)
So I crawl into bed at 1:00 AM (because I am an idiot) and then at 2:30 his crying finally pulls me out of my coma. I stumble down and get a bottle and then go in there and he is wedged in there kind of weird. (Remember those pleasant swaddling days? Gone. sniff sniff) His little head was wedged sort of weird, so I get him out of that and sit down to feed him. Literally I could not keep my head up. Then the little cute stink wakes up a bit and is staring at me like, "Oh, hey mommy. What are you doing in here." He didn't smile or anything, just stared at me and seemed to really wonder why I had gotten him up. I just stared back in a daze.
Back to bed and he was crying again at 6:30.
Why does life work like this? WHY do these things happen if you just tell someone he sleeps well? Happens every time! So if you ever ask me how my baby sleeps, I am going to tell you he sleeps like crap!! I promise to whine and lie and tell you he is up every couple hours.
That was the second night in a row he has done this. Tonight I might see if the Tylenol fixes the problem. =)
Is this wrong?
2 comments:
I knew reading your blog would be fun, fun, fun. Thanks for the laughs. And definitely try Tylenol, then Motrin 3 hours later. I'm a total advocate.
You're hilarious! I could read your blog all day long. Life with little boys...what a foreign world to me! I love your blog.
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